


Gonna Need a Spark to Ignite

by Bad_Egg



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Non-Consensual Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2018-09-27 01:47:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9944960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bad_Egg/pseuds/Bad_Egg
Summary: An unlikely relationship is formed after a run in with one of the Saviors.





	1. Chapter 1

_Same shit, different day._

You sighed as you stepped over to the workbench and dumped the various salvaged parts you needed to continue.

The sound system Negan had asked you to build for the beat up old car they’d found on their recent run was almost complete. Almost. Although finding the right components hadn’t been easy and the pressure to finish the project was threatening you to breaking point.

But shit, the points were worth it.

There was enough on offer to drive you through the blood, sweat and tears you’d been pouring into the job the past 24 hours.

At first, you’d queried whether you’d heard Ed correctly when he’d relayed Negan’s request to you on that rainy afternoon.

_“He wants a what now?“_

_“You know, a big ass booming sound whatever. For a car. A loud one.”_

_“Oh, one of_ THOSE. _I mean thank fuck for your technical knowledge Ed, or I might never have understood.”_

_“Whatever, you know what I mean. He wants it fast too. 48 hours. Said he’d make it worth your while.”_

_You raised your eyebrows at the deadline. In reality it was easy enough to achieve, but not when the world had gone to shit and you had a severe lack of equipment to work with. You cursed under your breath at your predicament. You’d have to work quickly if you wanted to meet the objective. You’d need lists, a general design and more equipment than you already had in storage. But you had to do it. This may have sounded like a polite request, but you damn well knew anything coming from Negan was an out and out demand._

_“Fine. I’ll get it done.”_

_“There’s a good girl. I’ll let the Boss know.”_

The glare you’d shot him after that was message enough for him to take his leave. Since arriving at the Sanctuary, you’d adapted pretty quickly to way things worked around here and quickly began earning your keep, mostly with on site electrical repairs. But every so often you’d be given a new project from the Boss through one of his lackeys, none of which you had much admiration for. From the creepy quiet ones to the soldiers power tripping their way around the compound. You made sure to keep contact with them all to an absolute minimum if you could help it.

You’d compiled a list of all the parts you’d needed and passed it to one of the men for the run that day. After that, you’d made your way back to the workshop to start on the design. As the pen hurriedly danced it’s way across the page you had started to wonder what all of this was even for. With the hordes of corpses lingering outside of The Sanctuary, it was hard to imagine anyone wanting to draw even more attention to themselves on a drive. It was suicide at best.

But no.

You’d later discovered it was for Hilltop.

Some elaborate plan of Negan’s to swing his metaphorical dick in their faces.

As it stood, you were on track to completing this all in good time. Well, you hoped. Maybe if you worked through lunch you’d be able to-

Your train of thought was interrupted by the sound of footsteps stopping at the entrance to the workshop. With your back to the open door you didn’t bother turning around to check who it was. It wasn’t uncommon for the men to look in on what you were up to and you usually preffered to avoid interaction. Unless they were just there to ogle, in which case a swift ‘fuck off’ usually did the trick.

After about a minute, whoever it was finally made their way into the room and stopped behind you. Before you could even turn around, the screwdriver you were holding was swiftly snatched from your grasp.

Your head snapped up in anger, ready to verbally destroy whoever thought it a good idea to invade your workspace and interrupt you. But your reaction was halted in its tracks when you laid eyes on the scarred face of the man in front of you. You exhaled slowly and adopted an air of calm as you greeted him with a curt nod.

“Dwight. What can I do you for?” Your jaw clenched at the smug look on his face as he purposely waved the tool in front of your face before closely stepping around you to your workbench.

“Oh, just here to collect a few things. Doing the morning rounds, you know how it is. Figured it had been a while since we caught up.” He replied, that slimy smile still present as he started holding up a few parts, as if inspecting their quality.

“I don’t think any of this will be of much use to you.” You stated, matter of factly. After all, without your expertise, he wouldn’t know the first thing about what to do with those components.

His head snapped towards you and you damn well knew he was taunting you by just being here. I mean sure, Negan had given him privileges to confiscate any contraband from the residents at the compound, but everything in your workshop was legit. Plus, none of it was considered a luxury to brazenly purloin for his own amusement, which he did often to other vendors.

“It might not be of use to me, but what I want, I get. You know the rules.” He drawled and stepped forward to invade your personal space a little more. You nodded and adopted the fakest smile you could muster.

“I do. But there’s no point having equipment you don’t know how to use,” You replied with a step forward of your own, your voice low in warning. “then again, there must be a lot you don’t know how to use. Wasn’t it _your_ wife who threw herself at the Boss?“ Spite dripped from your every word as your anger began to build again. You’d worked your ass off to get this shit done and Dwight on a power trip was the last thing you needed today. Although, you’d probably come to regret it later, right now it felt great to knock that smile off his face.

“The fuck you just say to me?” He spat, his voice much louder than before. His eyes were wide at your gall to dare speak to him the way you just had. Nevertheless, you couldn’t help but smirk knowing you’d seriously hit a nerve.

“Do I need to fucking repeat myself? Drop my stuff and leave, I’ve got work to do.”

You moved back over to the bench to do just that. Your back hadn’t been turned long before you felt a hand in your hair pulling you back and down in an attempt to throw you to the floor. You cried out and instinctively swung your elbow with both speed and force in an attempt to make contact with any part of him. The pain that erupted sharply up your arm confirmed you were successful and his grip quickly released his hold on you. You reached for the soldering iron in case he came at you again, but as you turned back another man had entered the room. He stopped to assess the situation, his stare moving from Dwights bloody nose to your disheveled hair and back again.

“Somebody want to explain to me what the hell is going on in here?” He stood tall with his hands on his hips and an air of authority. You suddenly felt your first pang of worry.

This wasn’t just another Savior.

This was Negan’s right hand man.

This was Simon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> This will also be posted to fuckyeahsaviors.tumblr.com too!


	2. Chapter 2

“I am a _very_ patient man. But I’m gonna need a fucking answer now.“

Simon’s voice broke through the silence that weighed heavy in the small workshop and you fired an uneasy glance over at Dwight. It was clear you were both trying to come up with some logical way to explain the tempers that had risen and erupted in a violent clash. But neither of you had managed to find the right words and if you didn’t soon, you’d both be up Shit Creek. For you, attacking another Savior would result in a punishment you didn’t want or need. Although you damn well knew you hadn’t hit first, it was your word against his and Dwight was already one of Negan’s favourite lap dogs. Your mind was racing, flitting between an explanation and the consequences of your actions. A valid answer or losing points you had worked your ass off to receive. Fuck, you hoped this wasn’t bad enough to result in an iron to the face. You had to open your damn mouth now if you wanted this to go your way.

“I’m finishing up a project for Negan.”

You finally managed to blurt out. At that, Simon’s gaze snapped towards you. You could have sworn you saw his eyes regard you from head to toe, but the action was so fast it was fleeting at best. No doubt if he had, he would be less than impressed by the worn jeans and flannel shirt you liked to call your ‘workshop uniform’. What was more obvious, was the way he looked from you to the workbench behind you. It was as if he was letting those words soak in and putting together the pieces of a puzzle in his own mind.

He took a few languid steps towards you, keeping his eyes on the array of equipment and salvage you had neatly set up. As he got closer, the small a amount of light that snuck in from the filthy windows revealed him a little more clearly and you found yourself taking in more of his image. He was tall, that much was obvious. But he was also broader than you realised at first and well built. Your eyes moved down to his upper torso, most of which was covered by a well fitted linen shirt, save for a few undone buttons. To your surprise, you found yourself reveling in the sight of how defined the muscle of his chest appeared to be and the light sprinkling of hair across it. You couldn’t help but wonder what you might see if you could peel that flimsy layer of clothing away and reveal what was hidden underneath. Your eyes began to drift lower, much lower to…

Your thoughts stopped dead in their tracks. Now was not a good time to be mentally undressing _anyone_ let alone one of the most high ranking individuals in the entire compound. But it seemed your wandering eyes hadn’t gone unnoticed. Simon was no longer observing your goods, so to speak, but he had most certainly caught you observing his. Something flashed across his face and you couldn’t tell if he was offended or flattered, but all of a sudden he took another, much more deliberate, step towards you.

You didn’t know whether it had anything to do with your lack of physical contact with anyone for such a long time or if it was all to do with the man in front of you.

But you felt like you were drowning.

He was so close you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. His eyes bore into yours like he was contemplating devouring you right here and now, despite Dwights lingering presence. Every inch of you wanted to run. But not out of fear. You wanted to run because you wanted it more than anything and that scared you. You’d kept to yourself since arriving here, you’d avoided getting close to anyone and honestly it hadn’t been difficult. But feeling like wrapping your legs around a man you’d just met was alien to you and you had no idea how to handle it.

Your gaze was drawn to his mouth as his tongue ran across his bottom lip. Then ever so slowly, inch by inch, he seemed to be closing the gap between you and you knew in a few seconds his lips could be ghosting across yours. But before your eyes had a chance to flutter themselves shut, you felt his hand wrap around your wrist gently but firmly. He reached across with his other hand and carefully removed the hot soldering iron you forgot you were holding and in an instant the embarrassment of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. Of course, he was going for the weapon in your hands. Simon smirked, standing tall again and placing the iron back into its holder on the work bench. You crossed your arms and attempted to adopt an air of nonchalance, but with the look on his face you knew he was well aware of what you’d been expecting. You couldn’t have been more thankful than when his attention turned to Dwight instead.

“You are one lucky son of a bitch, you know that?“ Simon exclaimed with jest in his voice.

“Lucky, sir?” Dwight asked in response, his weight shifting from side to side, while the sleeve of his shirt was still held against his nose.

“Damn right. You’re lucky that’s all you got, she was just about ready to make your face symmetrical.” Simon cracked a wide grin and picked up one of the parts Dwight had previously took an interest in, casually turning it around in his hands. “Now tell me Dwight, what are you doing here?”

“Well, I was carrying out my morning duties and-”

“Nope. Not what I asked.” Simon interrupted him, his unnerving smile not wavering as he probed again. “What are you doing _here_?”

It was obvious Dwight didn’t quite understand Simon’s question and worry started to spread across his face. He stumbled over his words, not being able to form a coherent answer before Simon held up his hand in an attempt to silence him. He now looked less than impressed and let out a sigh of disappointment before gesturing Dwight over to the workbench. The colour drained from his face as he walked over to join him. You stood, watching silently, but the tension in the air was almost electric and you didn’t think it could be blamed on the work you’d been doing this morning.

Simon layed a firm hand onto Dwights shoulder as he stood him over the array of salvaged materials on the worktop and held out the part in his hand.

“Dwight. Can you tell me what this is?”

Dwight took one look at it and quickly answered.

“No, sir.”

Simon nodded, a deep frown set against his features. He put the part down and picked up another.

“How about this?”

Dwight glanced at it and you could tell he was becoming more uncomfortable by the second at Simon’s questioning.

“Erm, no. I mean no, sir. I don’t know what that is.” His voice was quieter this time and you suddenly caught onto what Simon was doing. You couldn’t help but smirk to yourself and feel a little bit smug at the point he was making.

Simon, who naturally towered over the man next to him, lowered himself to Dwights level and tightened the grip on his shoulder. His voice, this time, was lower in volume but no less intimidating.

“Now there lies a problem. You see, if I was to ask the qualified professional in the room, I’m damn sure she’d be able to tell me what that crap is for. Isn’t that right sweetheart?” Despite directing the question at you, he didn’t once look away from Dwight, who currently looked like he wanted to kill you.

“That’s right.” You answered, cracking a small smile.

“That’s what I thought. Seems to me Dwight, this shit is better left where it is, wouldn’t you agree?” Simon had Dwight backed into a corner, figuratively speaking and you couldn’t have been more relieved with the way things had panned out.

“Yes, sir.” Dwight replied through clenched teeth, a seething rage bubbling under the surface at your small victory over him with the help of Negan’s one and only right hand man.

“Go get yourself cleaned up. You’re done here.”

Dwight made a swift exit. You watched him practically speed walk out of the door and couldn’t quite believe you had actually got one up on the little slimeball. You would have stopped to congratulate yourself a little longer before continuing your project, but then it dawned on you.

You were now stood in the workshop with Simon, alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> This will also be posted to fuckyeahsaviors.tumblr.com too!


	3. Chapter 3

With Dwight gone, the workshop felt as though it was closing in around you. The last time you were faced with such authority, was back when two of the saviors had found you hunkered down in that old gas station.

You remembered their rough hands dragging you out onto the forecourt, then being forced to your knees where Negan had been waiting. A million thoughts had raced through your mind and judging by his arrogant swagger, none of those thoughts involved you getting out of there untouched. You remembered the flicker of fear and the hot rage that threatened to consume you in that moment. You’d come so far, survived one hell of a shitstorm and you outright refused to go down without a fight. If one or more of those men laid a hand on you, you were ready to take them the fuck down.

Negan’s eyes had dragged over every inch of you while the barbed baseball bat on his shoulder swung down to his side. When he knelt in front of you, you swallowed your own fear and made sure to meet his gaze with a defiant glare of your own. Then it happened. He did something that would turn your world upside down. He didn’t touch you. He didn’t let his men use you for their entertainment. He didn’t do anything you could have predicted.

Because right there and then, he offered you a job.

Turned out, he was ‘mighty fucking impressed’ by the makeshift electric fence you’d set up to slow the corpses from getting to your little safe house. Turned out to be your ‘lucky fucking day’. So, with half your shit gone and a truck ride later, you arrived at The Sanctuary you now called home.

It seemed like such a distant memory, even though you hadn’t realistically been here all that long. Even so, you’d still managed to avoid meeting Negan’s right hand man. Sure, you’d seen him in the compound dishing out orders and organising the supply runs, but your paths never had reason to cross until today.

“He was not joking.” Simon drawled, turning away from the direction of the door and focusing his full attention on you.

“Okay?” You responded with a shrug, not having much of an idea what he was talking about. As much as you appreciated the way Dwight had been handled, you didn’t exactly feel like you could predict Simon’s reactions and that put you in a weaker position. In addition to already being much lower on the Savior food chain, he was all new unexplored territory and you knew you had to tread carefully.

“Negan. He said you were no damsel in distress and hell, he really was _not_ joking,” Simon said with a grin as he leant casually against the bench, “you wanna tell me why you felt the need to rearrange Dwighty boy’s face?”

His calm exterior bothered you slightly. You felt like it was some well hidden calm before the storm, because surely, you had a decent amount of punishment headed your way.

“I just reacted, I guess. I, uh, well, I didn’t think. One second I was getting back to work. The next, I was being pulled backwards. It was automatic, look, I swear I didn’t intend t-”

“Woah there Sparky. I get it,” Simon cut you off, his expression sympathetic. You felt like a dumbass for rambling like that, but there wasn’t much you could tell him except the truth and apparently that just wanted to come spilling right out, “you pissed him off, so he retaliated. Right?” He said, taking a few steps towards you.

You hesitated slightly before responding, his movement throwing you off guard.

“Right.”

“Well alright,” He said, stopping in front of you, “now turn around for me sweetheart?”

“What?”

“Turn around. Full 180,” He responded, his finger making a circular motion. His eyebrows were raised as if refusing was not an option and you had no other choice but to oblige. Your pulse quickened as you began to turn. Your jaw clenched, as you felt a twisted pang of anxiety churn in your stomach. You knew the rules and you knew Negan’s rules, you just hoped Simon was the kind of man to abide by them. You couldn’t guarantee you’d keep your cool if he over stepped your personal boundaries, “don’t worry, I’ll be much gentler than he was, okay?”

“Excuse me?” You bit back throwing him an incredulous look over your shoulder.

He frowned at you, but it only took him a second to realise what was running through your head.

“Oh! Shit, no. _That_ is not happening. Shit, I’m sorry. Uh,“ You had to admit, you had not expected to see him looking embarrassed. He ran a hand over the rough stubble of his face and let out a small laugh, at a loss for words. “I was just gonna,” He motioned towards the mess atop your head then proceeded to hold his hands up to prove he had no untoward intentions. He seemed genuine and some part of you trusted in what he was saying.

“Go on then.” You don’t know why you said it, but you almost wanted to test the truth in his words.

“Uh, sure,” Ever so slowly, his hands moved towards you. You felt a sturdy but gentle hand wrap itself around your hair, while another softly removed the hair tie that was keeping your disheveled locks in place, releasing the mess that Dwight had created earlier, “you might wanna shake that out.”

“Thanks.” You ran your hands through your hair, flattening down any runaway strands and turned to look up at Simon.

“You good?” He handed you the tie and put his hands back on his hips.

“I’m good.” You said, nodding.

“Good,” He mirrored your movements and you both stood facing each other. You were surprised. This was not the kind of man you’d expected to encounter today, if at all, at The Sanctuary. He seemed sincere. Really fucking sincere. But before you had any more time to contemplate just what Simon was all about, you both seemed to realise you’d been maintaining lingering eye contact for longer than you had both intended. Simon looked away first towards the door and cleared his throat, “I’ll make sure Negan hears about what happened with Dwight. He’ll be pissed, I can tell you that. It was uncalled for.“

“I’m not sure about that. I didn’t exactly watch my mouth.”

“Even so,” He said looking back at you, “still don’t make it right him laying a hand on you.” Simon regarded you one last time before before making his way out, “you try and stay out of trouble now.”

You watched him and contemplated how lucky you had gotten. Simon had actually taken your side in your clash with Dwight and that was confusing as damn hell. For a guy who orchestrated Negan’s demands and implemented his rules, you knew he’d be able to dish out a decent amount of cruelty when the situation demanded it. And you’d expect nothing less. But he’d been so careful in assessing the situation, you now suspected he’d already made the judgement of Dwights guilt before he even started questioning you both. Then, after all of that, he stuck around to check you were alright. In some fucked up way, it was almost chivalrous.

Moving back to your workspace you tried to recall where you’d left off, before suddenly remembering something else entirely.

“Simon?” You shouted just a split second after he’d moved out of sight.

“Yeah?” He said, one hand against the door frame as he leaned back into sight.

“Sparky?” You questioned and he let out a quiet chuckle.

“Yeah. It’s what Negan and the guys call you on account of your job and, well, your apparent short fuse. Just please don’t shoot the messenger.” He responded with a look of faux terror on his face and you actually laughed for the first time in a long time.

“I’ll be honest Simon, I think I like it,” You admitted. “but keep that to yourself. Wouldn’t want to ruin my infamous reputation.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He brought two fingers to his temple in a mock salute and with that, he was gone.

The screwdriver you’d been using was teetering on the edge of the bench. You grabbed it and got back to work, remembering the looming deadline Negan had given you.

You didn’t even realise, but as you carried on working, a small smile was tugging at the corner of your lips. A smile that continued to linger until your head hit the pillow that same night.


	4. Chapter 4

“No points.” Maureen said and placed her hand on the logbook to stop you from writing your name. You looked at her, waiting for her to reveal it was only in jest, but when she didn’t budge you broached the subject.

“What do you mean, no points? Last I checked these didn’t come cheap.” You held up the ice cold can of soda in front of you, the condensation now beginning to drip down the sides. After completing your assignment for ‘Operation let’s-fuck-with-Hilltop’, Negan had pulled through on his promise of a generous payment, which you had decided to make use of and treat yourself to a little luxury. Well, as luxurious as lunch in the Sanctuary canteen could get.

“His orders. Came by this mornin’, told me not to charge you drinks today, with the weather n’all.” You stared at her in awe and despite the words ‘ _you have got to be shitting me_ ’ resting on the tip of your tongue, they didn’t seem to venture any further than that. Sure, you’d helped Negan achieve whatever he’d set out to do, but it wasn’t like you had much choice in the matter. He demanded - you delivered - he paid. It was a simple transaction that had been closed, yet here you were being treating like a damn VIP. Something didn’t add up.

“Today? The _whole_ day?”

“That’s what he said.”

“That can’t be right.”

“Believe me, honey, he made sure I understood completely and that it applied to you and only you. Bottled water, cans, even some of the hard stuff if that’s what you wanted, no points.”

You continued to stare at her in utter confusion and then leaned in to whisper. _“Are you fucking with me?_ ”

She let out an impatient sigh and you almost felt the need to apologise to the older woman for your   language, but the statement perfectly summed up how you felt right about now, and you wouldn’t have been able to come up with an alternative if you’d tried. “No dear, I’m not. So, you might as well enjoy it while it lasts. Now move along please.” 

You nodded and put the pen down, watching as it rolled to the dip in the centre of the book. “Thanks, I guess.” You mumbled and found yourself an empty table to sit down at.

Parking yourself over by the far wall, you sat and held the can in front of you with both hands, fingers tapping the cold metal in contemplation. This was weird. Really fucking weird. The ‘I’ve just won an Olympic gold medal and I didn’t even enter the fucking event’ kind of weird.   Part of you wondered if it were some cruel trick, that you’d reap the reward to it’s full potential only for Negan to jump out of nowhere and make you pay up everything you owed.

Scanning the room, you noticed nothing out of the ordinary. The staff were carrying on as normal and workers and soldiers were coming and going with their rations and purchases. You ran a hand over your forehead, wiping the sweat from your brow and cursed before pulling back the tab on the can, choosing to let ‘future you’ deal with the repercussions if there were any. 

It tasted glorious. The liquid was cold against your lips and the sharp hit of fizz was a stark reminder of what’d you’d been missing. Before the Sanctuary, the summer months had been difficult. Canned drinks were non-existent during your scavenges and bottled water was also in short supply. You’d relied on filling up your flask from taps that worked or drinking water you’d collected from streams and other natural sources – of course making sure to boil and cool it first to avoid spending an entire day in a random restroom. You’d savoured every drop like it would be your last and you felt yourself doing the same with the sugary beverage in your hand even now. But then you realised, you didn’t need to savour it. In fact, you could have as much as you wanted if Maureen really was telling the truth. Cutting your break short, you licked your lips and gave them a quick wipe as you stood up briskly and made your way back to the hatch.

___________________________________________ 

The carrier at your side slowed down your usual pace, but you welcomed the weight of it. The clinking of bottles rang out in the deserted corridor as you head back to the workshop and you couldn’t wait to enjoy them once the working day was up. 

Rounding the corner with a slight spring in your step, you neared your destination, but something was off. The door to the workshop was ajar. 

_That’s not right._

You never left the workshop open. Ever. Not just because your entire livelihood was held in that room, but because Negan would shit a giant brick if any of the tools or resources in there went missing. Especially after he’d sent good men out to find them on more than one occasion at your request.

You slowed down, taking careful steps and trying to keep the bag in your hand steady so the noise didn’t give you away. Reaching the door, you checked the lock and noticed there was no sign of forced entry. Whoever had opened the door had unlocked it with a key, which meant it had to be someone from the higher ranks.

If you had a mirror, you were sure you’d see the colour drain from your face as you wondered who was in there and what shit you’d gotten yourself into. You looked down at the drinks and cursed at yourself for being so gullible, but at the same time you couldn’t figure why the old lady would screw you over. Not unless she’d be threatened of course.

_Shit._

You were about to turn around and go back the way you came. To dump everything back off at the hatch and pay what you owed for the soda can you’d drank. Until you heard a noise from inside. It sounded like… well, it sounded like a high-pitched giggle. Leaning closer to the open door, you heard the hushed tones of a man’s voice join her. Whoever it was, they were trying to keep quiet.

As if your afternoon hadn’t been weird enough, this was the proverbial cherry on top. You wanted to pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t stuck in some vivid, weird ass dream, but you knew you weren’t. This really was happening. Two people were sneaking around the compound and had chosen your workshop to enjoy themselves in. Whether they stole the key or whether they really were in Negan’s ranks, you didn’t care. Using your space for _that_ was a big, fat nope and downright fucking disrespectful.

You checked to your left and right, making sure there was no one else coming down the corridor, before reaching for the door and pushing it open.

“Hey, last I checked this was _my_ worksh-“ Your eyes landed on the couple who were in locked in a heated kiss but quickly broke apart to look at you upon being caught. You stopped dead as you looked her over, the straps of her tight black dress hanging down her arms and her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders. “Oh, shit…”

That was one of the Wives for sure.

But the guy was most definitely _not_ Negan.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> This will also be posted to fuckyeahsaviors.tumblr.com too!


End file.
